The Start
by Nakamura
Summary: When Nyamine goes into Alliance territory, she finds herself bound and chained to the guards. How the hell will she get out of this?


Out of breath.

Sweating.

Some things in the world were not proper for a blood elf to be doing around an Alliance area.

A blood elf shouldn't even be around an Alliance area; except for slaughtering the lot of them.

Nyamine was found on the outskirts of Elywen Forest, trying to find a certain herb that only seemed to be around the human area. This herb, as portrayed by the master in Shattrath, would cure any and all disease. Most commonly found near the cathedral up north from some town called Goldenshire.

That was all she wanted from this forsaken place.

Then SHE had to show up.

Nyamine was crouched on the branch on one of the more sturdy branches of the oak tree. Hands gripping at the trunk, her glowing green eyes scanned the building in question. The cathedral was built with no other opening besides the main entrance, counting only around five or six different liveable rooms. The bell tower, which seemed to be higher than any of the trees, stood around 16 feet or so. She didn't count on this being accurate at all. Her attire for this trip consisted of her full gear, minus her helmet. She wore her long white hair in a loose ponytail, keeping the hair from covering her vision. Even though most of her fellow blood elves became Rouges, Warlocks, or Paladins, Nyamine and a few others decided to either become hunters, or Priests. Personally, she loved being free from the insatiable quench for mana. Her consort became a priest. The poor fool was in scripted to the Scryers tier in the Sanctuary, Shattrath City.

Training night and day to become a skilled hunter, Nyamine tamed a night sabre.

Frost.

She would give her life for her companion now.

Her long ears perked as her eyes shifted to a small figure around 6 feet below her. A Night elf. Her blood boiled slowly as she watched the elf pick the herb she was so desperate to get her hands on. Smell it like it was a flower. Gritting her teeth, Nyamine's eyes closed enough to become menacing slits. Bitch didn't even know she was here. That was the last herb in this area for MONTHS! Gripping the trunk again, Nyamine pushed herself down silently, landing with a small thud behind the night elf. The elf was walking away before turning around to see a hunter behind her. It didn't scare her until she noticed it was a blood elf.

"That herb is mine."

She had learned a bit of common from the Sanctuary's priests and scholars. Thalassian was a tough one for her, so she kept from speaking it. A hunter's job was to kill any and all targets. This meant learning foreign languages to speak to emissaries. Her voice was low and steady, snapping her fingers as frost emerged almost out of thin air. He was actually hiding behind the tree, in a small bush that was nearby. Looking up, Nyamine stood, pushing herself up with her hands on her knees.

The night elf dropped the herb to the ground in panic, looking around for anyone. A guard would be more preferable. Seeing no one in sight, she opened her mouth to scream.

Nothing came from her however, as Nyamine drew her bow with speed and agility, holding an arrow, she pulled the string back, letting the string snap from her fingers. The arrow went directly through her throat. Blood began to flow from her neck. Slowly at first, but quickly turning into a stream. Nyamine's eyes perked up in malicious intent, snapping her fingers as Frost leapt from his spot.

Her screams became more imminent as the tigers teeth ran through her purple flesh.

Nyamine had the surge of power as the screams ceased, Frost's teeth biting her neck viciously. Another Alliance scum cleansed from the world. Hearing heavy footsteps now, her attention turned to the cathedrals direction. Guards were standing near the graveyard, wide eyed and shocked. One male Night elf pushed through the crowd of Humans to only see the females mangled corpse. Her screamed loudly in both shock and horror, turning to see the Blood elf.

Nyamine smirked as she petted Frosts head, the cat purring in content. Blood dripped from the white fur, hitting the ground.

"Lenoora! NO!" The male's screams indicated the woman was his. "YOU FILTHY BLOOD ELF!"

Like Nyamine hadn't heard that before. Watching the male grab two knives from his belt, she dictated that the man was a rogue. Frost growled low as the male charged towards them, the ground imprinted his feet as he ran. Blood lust covered his features as the guards tried to shout him back. Nyamine only grinned, baring her teeth on one side of her face. Her eyebrows dropped over her eyes, her hands going behind her shoulders, pulling her long handled sword from her back. The serrated blade jutted out, and curved. Perfect for cutting, and ripping, Alliance flesh from their feeble bones.

Charging ahead as well, Frost looked at his master, knowing to stay back from this.

The sound of metal hitting metal rang in the air as Nyamine clashed with this male. Struggling for the power in this fight; the male spit on her face.

"I will kill you for killing my beloved!"

His voice rang true in her ears, but she smirked and pushed him back, the surprise covering his face once again. Her passion for his blood over ridded her ability to even retaliate. She pushed her weight of the ground once again, Her sword impaling his light tinted skin, right through his heart. Pushing the sword deeper, she pushed him to the ground, pushing the sword into the ground. Pinning him to his death. He sputtered blood, his hands grasping the sword. Feeble attempts ended as the blood drained him, pooling on the ground around him.

"Weakling are meant to be killed, not heard."

She hissed, spitting on the corpse.

The Stormwind guards arrived, seeing the blood elf amidst the body of Night elf corpses. The Guardsmen for the cathedral has tried their hand at killing this Blood elf, only to either be shot, or maimed by Frost. The two of them were covered in blood, the blood lust in both eyes killing anyone who dared cross them both.

"The Blood elf that was reported by a civilian turned out to be true..."

One of the guard's captains muttered to himself, getting down from his horse. Nyamine looked towards the squad and chuckled a bit. More of them? Did they not know that they were coming to their own deaths, going against her? She would slaughter the lot of them. Turning to her right, she heard a hissing noise. Frost was on the ground, whimpering. She looked surprised at her cat, the felt something that made her skin scrawl. Her eyes spotted a shaman and a druid a couple ways away from her, her druid had cast entangling roots on the two of them, keeping them from moving any further or closer. The Shaman was draining them both of their mana and life.

"Fucking assholes..."

She muttered to herself, struggling as the roots were grabbing her hands and feet, keeping her from moving around too much. The Druid came forward, exposing himself to be a night elf, the Shaman walking with him. A Draenei , and a night elf. What a splendid combination. Her frown creased her features as they walked up to her, and talked between themselves, thinking she didn't know what they were saying.

"You know... The Guards told us we could take her to our own homes to torture..." The Night elf talked lowly to the Shaman.

"We have to take her to the Stormwind Stockades. We can have our fun with her there." The Draenei smirked and chuckled as they both looked her over.

Staring at them both with a cocked eyebrow, she sighed.

"I do know what you guys are saying."

She sighed again as they looked at her shocked. This wasn't going to be good.

Hey guys. Thanks for reading! I hope to continue this, and upload the other stories that are connected to this one. :] With permission from my friend of course. Anyway.

R&R and enjoy the coming stories.


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